


When We First Met

by flootiger



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Twincest - Not Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootiger/pseuds/flootiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was true love when Tom first met Bill at college.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We First Met

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always loved the idea of Bill and Tom meeting at college/uni and falling in love, so I wrote about it. I rarely write AU twins so sorry if the characterisations are... lacking somewhat. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> For **Zarlina** over on THF for being sweet, kind and hard working!

Tom looked across the coffee table and smiled.   
  
Bill’s hair was smooth, dark and shining and pushed to one side with an impatient brush of his hand. He was talking fast, something about his day at work and how he wished they’d bring in some new staff because he’s sick of doing everything himself. Tom knew he was lying though, knowing Bill just wanted an excuse to swear out his employees at the small studio. Bill liked to do things his way, and his way often involved rolling his eyes exasperatedly and micromanaging the whole company himself. Tom felt sorry for the handful of young staff at Bill’s art studio.   
  
Manicured hands waved emphatically as his boyfriend launched into a fresh tirade about Shay, his newest intern.   
  
“And she didn’t even know where to deliver the portrait, I mean Madam Trousseau is going to throw an absolute  _fit_ , and then Andreas—what?”   
  
Bill tilted his head at Tom, halting his diatribe as Tom lifted the corners of his mouth in a smile and gave Bill a look.   
  
“I’m talking too much?”   
  
“You always talk too much.”   
  
“Sorry.”   
  
Bill huffed out a light laugh. He shook his head so his dark hair fell over his eyes as he looked down into his still full coffee. Tom knew Bill wasn’t shy, but the demure movement made him seem fragile for a moment and Tom wanted to reach out, tuck the heavy tresses behind Bill’s ear and comb his fingers through the few white dreads that tangled with Bill’s darker hair.   
  
“I don’t mind,” Tom reminded him. One of Bill’s hands was lying on the table, several silver rings decorating the slim fingers tipped with black polish. Tom took it in his own, covering Bill’s smaller hand with his. Tattooed fingers marking the day they’d met gave his boyfriend a gentle squeeze.   
  
Bill looked up again when Tom’s thumb rubbed over the knuckles.   
  
“I know you don’t.”   
  
He was smiling, too. Kohl lined eyes crinkled at the edges slightly. The fondness that burned bright made Tom’s belly swirl pleasantly. It amused him to think the first time he’d met those hazel eyes, Bill was looking at him with anything but fondness. Instead he’d pinned Tom with a vicious glare, smoky eyes narrowing at him from beside the beer pong table, a lion’s mane of black and blond bristling irately.   
  
It had been Georg who had invited Tom to the party, promising free drinks and a steady supply of all the pretty girls Tom could ever want. Young, eager and horny Tom had gladly accepted the offer, pleased that Georg, the captain of the soccer team and two years his senior, had extended an invitation to him, a fresher. Tom had had no trouble making friends at college, his position on the soccer team securing him instant popularity.   
  
He’d been looking for fun and wild times at college, perhaps a few flings with one or two girls but nothing with any longevity. Instead, he’d found Bill, and fallen rather hard.   
  
Literally, Tom thought back with a smirk. The anger that had flashed dangerously in Bill’s eyes as Tom had tripped and knocked an entire pint of beer over the poor boy remained etched in his memory. The low whistle that Georg had sounded told Tom he was probably in a lot of trouble, but his somewhat inebriated state and his instant desire to kiss Bill had eclipsed any embarrassment, or rational thought.   
  
Instead he’d smirked, deciding then and there that he wanted Bill and even the murderous look Bill was still directing at him was not going to stop him.   
  
Admittedly, it had taken several weeks of desperate pursuit, a thousand apologies, promises that Tom didn’t just want to get into Bill’s pants for one night, token gifts to prove he was willing to go the extra mile, and even a humiliating display of air guitar, before Bill would accept his offer and they went for coffee.   
  
Tom hadn’t cared though, he’d fallen in love.   
  
“What are you thinking about?” Bill asked. His chair scraped as he tucked it in closer to the table. Tom did the same, bumping their knees beneath the artfully sandpapered wood table.   
  
“When we first met.”   
  
“Oh, god,” Bill shook his head, laughing. “Don’t remind me.”   
  
“Why not?” Tom teased. “It was love at first sight.”   
  
“Maybe for you,” Bill peered at Tom coyly.   
  
“Don’t try and deny it now, I know you liked me,” Tom smirked, picking Bill’s hand off the table and threading their fingers together.   
  
“I only liked your dreadlocks,” Bill said. “And now they’re gone, so I wonder why I keep you around?”   
  
Gently, he reached across the table to push his fingers into Tom’s hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. The low knot that Tom now kept his hair in often came loose but Bill was always there to sort him out. Softly, Bill’s fingers trailed down Tom’s temple and over his cheek, scratching lightly at the line of skin just above his beard before he pressed tenderly at Tom’s lower lip and then let his hand fall.   
  
“You fell in love with me,” Tom said confidently.   
  
“Mmm,” Bill hummed. “Maybe a little.”   
  
Tom watched his beautiful boyfriend as Bill let go of Tom’s hand to wrap his hands around the now lukewarm mug of coffee. He’d spent so long berating his employees that it was no longer hot, but Bill liked it that way, often abandoning coffee cups around the apartment until he deemed them either drinkable, or Tom cleared them away.   
  
“Tell me about your day,” Bill wanted to know. “I’ve talked enough.”   
  
Tom chuckled and shrugged as he watched Bill lower his head to take a sip of his drink. “It was okay, Jost wanted Gustav to stay late to work on a new demo.”   
  
Bill looked up. “I’m glad he didn’t make you stay as well.”   
  
“Me too,” Tom nodded.   
  
Bill gazed over the edge of his coffee mug and then set it on the table again. Tom watched as the tip of Bill’s tongue poked out to catch a drop that had caught on his lower lip.   
  
The very first time Tom had taken Bill for coffee he’d been unable to keep his eyes off Bill, mesmerised by everything about him. Back then Bill’s style had been less refined, more wild and untamed but every bit as gorgeous as he was now. Bill liked to dress up, put on make-up, do his hair and paint his nails, he liked to put on a show for people, he liked people to watch, to follow.   
  
Tom had had no chance.   
  
Over the next months Bill had let go a little, curled on the sofa beneath Tom’s arm in only sweats and a ratty band tee. He’d stayed the night, let Tom see him in the morning with a fresh face and dishevelled hair, kissed Tom back when he’d chased him for early morning kisses before lectures, thrown his head back to expose his long neck as he’d let Tom fuck him.   
  
They’d grown up in each other’s spaces ever since, nearly seven years to the day until they’d met, learning how to love each other, learning how to let the other in. Out of college there had been a brief moment when Tom fretted over what might become of them, Bill was from New York but Tom was heading back to LA to begin his career as a producer. Tom remembered with a fond smile how Bill had promised him they’d be okay, how he had even hesitantly asked Tom what he thought of Bill moving back to LA with him.   
  
Tom hadn’t even had to think about it. They were both artists, Bill was into painting and Tom was into guitars. LA was plenty big enough for the two of them.   
  
“What are we doing tonight?” Bill asked, sipping once again at his coffee.   
  
“Georg and Melanie are going out for drinks with Shiro,” Tom said. “We could join them?”   
  
Bill hummed as he tilted his head at Tom. “Maybe.”   
  
“You have something else in mind?”   
  
Tom’s own mouth upturned when he saw Bill smiling at him brightly. “It’s Friday,” Bill said.   
  
“So?” Tom grinned.   
  
“So we can stay up all night and not worry about work the next day,” Bill said.   
  
Tom stood, reaching as he did for Bill’s hand again. Bill twisted in his seat as Tom came to stand before him. The adoration that Tom felt towards Bill was reflected back in Bill’s eyes, warm with happiness.   
  
“Now?” Bill wanted to know.   
  
Tom nodded. Carefully, he leaned down to kiss his boyfriend chastely, his lips barely lingering before he stood up again and pulled Bill with him. Grabbing his bag and dropping a tip beside his half-full coffee mug, Bill followed.   
  
Outside it was warm, the sun hadn’t quite set but already the buzz of LA nightlife was beginning to emerge. With a feeling of easy contentedness that only came with a Friday night, Tom looped his arm around Bill’s shoulders, drawing him close to kiss his temple. Bill struggled slightly and Tom knew he was about to get chastised for mussing Bill’s hair.   
  
“My hair, Tom!”   
  
Tom grinned and kissed Bill’s cheek, but didn’t drop his arm from around Bill’s shoulders. Bill didn’t seem to mind though, reaching up to thread his fingers with Tom’s that rested by his neck, pressing Tom closer around him as they walked.   
  
At first Bill had been an absolute condemner of public displays of affection, deeming them crude and embarrassing for all parties involved, including those who had to witness it. Tom hadn’t been dissuaded however, and soon Bill was slipping his hand into Tom during the walks to class, letting himself be wrapped up for warm hugs when the winter months rolled in, reaching over to rearrange any dreads that had gone awry. He’d even kissed Tom good luck in front of the entire soccer team once, something Tom had never been able to live down.   
  
He hadn’t minded though, Tom had Bill and Bill was worth every single dig he’d ever received for the rest of his college career.   
  
“I love you, you know,” Tom told Bill.  
  
“Oh, pssh,” Bill swatted at Tom’s chest but Tom looked down to see him grinning.   
  
“You know that, right?” He said as they strolled together down the sidewalk. Bill’s fingers squeezed around his own and Tom returned the silent message.   
  
“You are such a sap,” Bill said instead. It was his own special way of saying to Tom he felt the same.   
  
Bill had been the first to say  _I love you_. Tom had known it was love from the moment he’d seen Bill shoot him that icy glare by the beer pong table. But he was a gentleman, he hadn’t want to scare Bill off. So he’d waited. It wasn’t until their seventh month of dating that Bill had slipped the words to Tom. Tom had been hastily throwing some clothes in a suitcase, getting ready to go home for the weekend for his baby sister’s eleventh birthday. Bill had stayed the night and now sat amongst Tom’s sheets, naked beneath them and looking thoroughly debauched. Tom was almost naked himself, dressed only in last night’s boxers he’d yanked up his legs when he’d realised his flight home was a few hours away. It had been almost excruciating to drag himself out of Bill’s arms and into the chilly room, cold from lack of insulation and a student’s meagre budget.   
  
“You should come next time,” Tom had said over his shoulder as he’d scooped together some t-shirts and dumped them in the small suitcase.   
  
“To see your family?” Bill had asked. Tom had heard him shift, the sheets rustling with the uncertainty Tom knew had made Bill move.   
  
“Yeah,” Tom replied. “You’ll love them.”   
  
Bill had remained silent, for such a long moment that Tom had stopped his hurried packing and turned to look at his boyfriend.   
  
“What is it?” He said.   
  
“...I’m sure I’ll love them,” Bill had replied diplomatically. But Tom could see there was something that was bothering Bill. He thought he knew what. Forgetting his packing (and the time), he’d stepped over the suitcase and crawled on top of Bill, pushing him back against the mattress and hovering above him.   
  
Bill had been unwilling to meet his eyes but Tom urged him to with a gentle nudge of his nose against Bill’s and a feather light kiss to his lips.   
  
“They will love you, too,” Tom said softly, his voice barely a murmur.   
  
Bill beamed at him, and clearly Tom had been correct. He shook his head amusedly as he rose once more, unable to understand how any could not love Bill. Bill was everybody’s friend, popular by his own right rather than the popularity Tom had gained by default because of his position on the soccer team. He was smart and beautiful, sharp-witted with a dry sense of humour and a fierce loyalty to his friends. He was immensely talented, sometimes recalcitrant but a hard worker, and he believed in Tom’s own musical abilities, too. Tom’s mum had been begging to meet him for months but Tom was reluctant, wanting to make sure Bill wouldn’t think it was too much.   
  
He had continued with his packing, shoving a few things from his desk, a book, a couple of papers and some pens. The idea was to spend a couple of hours studying a day over the weekend but this was foolishly optimistic. Tom knew he’d spend his free time either being dressed up by Evie and her friends or on the phone to Bill.   
  
A few minutes later he stood; dressed, packed and with a few minutes to spare.   
  
“I’ll call you when I get there, okay?” Tom said as he made his way back over to Bill, trying very hard to ignore the tug in his chest that told him to get back in bed with his boyfriend. Evie was very important to him, he reminded himself as he gazed down at Bill who looked up at him with an affectionate smile.   
  
Bill had looked very soft that morning, his hair clean and smooth from last night’s shower, his face free of make-up and his small spine curved over slightly where he sat cross legged.   
  
“Okay,” Bill had said.   
  
“I’ll miss you,” Tom said into Bill’s hair as thin arms tugged him down and enveloped him in a sleepy hug. “Are you going back to sleep? Gustav is around if you need anything.”   
  
“I’ll miss you too,” Bill had said, his voice oddly hoarse. When Tom had pulled back, Bill was looking up at him owlishly.   
  
Tom grinned. He cupped the side of his boyfriend’s face in one hand and swiped his thumb over the cheekbone, feeling like the luckiest boy in the world, knowing he had this to return to after his trip. Just as Tom was about to drop his hand and turn away, Bill had grabbed it, holding it in place against his skin.   
  
“Bill? I won’t be gone long, only a couple of—”  
  
“Iloveyou,” Bill had blurted out, the words so garbled that Tom had barely caught them. He’d blinked, his heart leaping and his stomach lurching excitedly. Bill looked at him. “Just... yeah, I’ve fallen in love with you.”   
  
Tom had been unable to stop his features splitting into a wide grin as he’d laughed, tugging Bill to his feet and wrapping his arms around him.   
  
“I love you, too,” he’d said as he’d pulled back.   
  
“Really?”Bill’s eyes widened.   
  
“Since like, forever,” Tom rolled his eyes. “Idiot,” he added affectionately.   
  
“Oh... well,” Bill appeared flustered, which was a rarity. “That’s nice.”   
  
Tom hummed, amused and elated and in love. “I can’t believe you’re making me wait a whole weekend now.”   
  
“For what?” Bill had seemed surprised as Tom’s hands had rubbed up and down his bare sides.   
  
Tom knew he was about to get smacked for this one but he did it anyway. He leant in, kissing along Bill’s jaw line until Bill was gasping slightly and then he whispered against the shell of Bill’s ear; “To make love to you.”   
  
“Oh, ugh! Tom!” Bill arms had come up between them and shoved him away. “Gross.”   
  
Tom sniggered, drawing Bill close again. Bill hadn’t resisted which Tom took to be a good sign. The light blush that dusted Bill’s cheeks had made Tom want to  _make love_  to him there and then but time was incredibly short and he hadn’t wanted to miss his flight. They’d kissed goodbye, Tom saying the three words to Bill again and enjoying the resultant squirm as Bill tried to get away. Needless to say, when Tom had returned after the weekend, Bill had let him love him properly all night long.   
  
“I want to paint our room,” Bill said out of the blue.   
  
“What colour?” Tom asked, amused by Bill’s constant desire to transform some aspect of their lives.   
  
“I don’t know yet,” Bill said slowly. “Maybe just white, a clean palate.”   
  
“Boring,” Tom teased.   
  
Bill scoffed, “Like you know anything about taste.”   
  
Tom could hear the eye-roll in Bill’s voice. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave it up to you.”   
  
He gave Bill’s shoulders a light squeeze, grinning.   
  
Together, they turned a corner onto a side road of LA, still busy as LA always was, but quieter, no urgent footsteps of early party goers or hustling weekenders trying to get to a restaurant on time. Tom loved LA, he loved the easy life style, he loved his work, he loved his apartment and his dog.   
  
Mostly, Tom loved Bill, loved that he’d moved his life to the other side of the country for him, that Bill always had to be woken up with sleepy kisses, that Bill no longer had any concept of personal space, and that he always sung in the shower and often dragged Tom in, too. Tom loved that Bill spent hours deciding on each new item of furniture for their apartment, loved it when Bill woke him up with his lips around his cock, he loved when Bill talked about his artwork so animatedly that Tom sometimes had to grab his hands and hold them still to centre him again. Tom loved how Bill always found the best birthday presents for Evie, and even better ones for his mum, how Bill had warned him about his own mother but told him his dad was a piece of cake if Tom brought him some cigars. Tom loved how Bill kissed him, how Bill touched him, how Bill made love to him. Tom loved Bill with all his heart. He and Bill were forever.   
  
“Bill,” he stopped suddenly, halting them in the street.   
  
“Hm?” Bill looked at Tom absently before trying to walk on.   
  
“Marry me,” Tom said quickly.   
  
Bill stopped, his eyes widened and his hand flew to his mouth. “What?” he whispered.   
  
“Marry me,” Tom said again. He stepped in close to Bill and cinched one arm around his little waist while the other carded through his hair, pushing it off his face affectionately. “Please?” He smiled at his boyfriend.   
  
“Okay,” Bill nodded fast, his hand still pressed over his mouth. Tom noticed his eyes were glistening and he leaned in to press his mouth to Bill’s hand fondly. Tom was on cloud nine, his whole being thrumming with happiness and delight. Both of Bill’s hands now came up to hold Tom’s face and he beamed through damp eyes. A nervous laugh stuttered from Bill’s chest as he shook his head at Tom.   
  
“I can’t believe you,” he said, his voice shaking with the same emotion Tom felt.   
  
Tom held Bill against his body, swaying slightly and trying to remember when he’d felt this happy.   
  
“I er... don’t have a ring,” he admitted.   
  
Bill laughed again. “I don’t care.” With one last little laugh Bill threw himself against Tom, kissing him again and again and whispering how much he loved Tom, how much he meant to him.   
  
“I love you, too,” Tom was saying against Bill’s soft lips. “So much.”   
  
Tom hadn’t need to think about it, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Bill, just like he’d known all those years ago when he’d tripped and spilt a whole beer over him. It was funny how some things began, Tom thought as he held onto Bill and loved him with all his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
